


Of Dorne

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arianne strives to fulfill her role as a princess of Dorne and a daughter of House Martell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Dorne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/gifts).



> Dear Thinkatory, I had this idea for an Arianne character study type thing in my head for a while, and then I saw your request and I was inspired to finally write it. I hope you like it. - Redcandle17

She remembered when her aunt and royal cousins died. She was a little girl of six and her father, the ruling Prince of Dorne, wept like a baby. Distressed, Arianne had sought out her Uncle Oberyn. There were tears on his face, too, but he did not cry weakly. He howled and raged and the servants feared to approach him. He brandished his spear as though he would use it on whomever came near. 

Arianne had run to him, and he’d dropped his spear and clutched her, and swore no one would ever do to her what had been done to her Aunt Elia. Afterward, Oberyn left Sunspear and Arianne’s lady mother urged her to go to her father and comfort him. But it was Quentyn, the baby, who climbed in their father’s lap and cried with him.

Arianne kept watch from the top of the tower, waiting for Oberyn to return. The household worried for him. Arianne heard them whisper that he’d gone to King’s Landing to kill Tywin Lannister. Half of them feared he would never return, and half were certain he would avenge Princess Elia, but all feared the war would come to Dorne. 

However, the prince came back a fortnight later without a host pursuing him. Instead, he had with him a little girl Arianne’s age. She had pale skin, yellow hair, and blue eyes, but Oberyn said she was his daughter and Arianne’s cousin. 

“Tyene, this is Princess Arianne.”

The girl, Tyene, gave her a sweet smile, and curtsied perfectly. Jealousy at having to share Uncle Oberyn warred with her excitement at having another girl to play with. “Where are you from? You’re not Dornish.”

“I am from the Reach. My mother is a septa.”

Arianne felt her eyes grow wide. Tyene might as well have announced that she was the daughter of the Seven. 

“Aye, child, and your father is the Great Sinner himself,” Lady Mellario said. 

Oberyn Martell merely laughed. “Arianne, I must go away again. Will you protect Tyene while I am gone?”

She might have grown to dislike the other girl, might have become resentful of how she charmed adults, but Tyene was hers now. All of Dorne would be hers one day, hers to lead and care for. “I swear it by the new gods and the old ones,” she said solemnly. 

Oberyn was gone longer this time, and when he returned he had another girl with him. This one was a little older than Arianne. She had the bronze skin, black hair, and dark eyes of a Dornishwoman, but she was from Volantis where her mother’s family was ancient and noble. Her name was Nymeria, though she told Arianne everyone called her Nym. 

Uncle Oberyn went on two more journeys, each longer than before, and with each one he brought back another child. The girls he brought back from these voyages were very different. Obara was the eldest of them all, tall and not particularly pretty. She looked like she could be from any village in the north but she happened to be from Oldtown. Tyene told Arianne her mother was a whore and Obara could not deny it. 

Sarella was the youngest, the daughter of the captain of a trading ship from the Summer Isles. She had skin a darker brown than usually found in Dorne and very curly hair. She had brought a small bow and several tiny blunted arrows that she offered to let them shoot, but only Nym took the offer. Obara sulked, pretending to be uninterested, and Tyene only folded her hands together and said she preferred subtler weapons. 

Soon Arianne could not remember life at Sunspear before her four cousins came. They were as good as sisters to her, even Obara.

Years passed. Her lady mother gave birth to another boy. Uncle Oberyn killed a man in a duel over a woman. Quentyn was sent away to foster with Lord Yronwood. Lady Mellario went back to Norvos, and Prince Doran let her go. Through it all Arianne had her cousins. People called them the Sand Snakes now, the daughters of the Red Viper, the deadliest man in Dorne. Her cousins were as dangerous as their sire, each in her own way, for Oberyn had insisted his daughters learn to fight.

Arianne had not wanted to be left out. However her father said she didn’t need to wield a weapon. She would be directing men in battle. “A wise prince knows to watch the field and move his pieces as needed. You will have many men who can fight, but only you can decide their fates, Arianne.” 

She had argued, of course, but Prince Doran would not be swayed. No martial training for his daughter. He wanted her to read dusty old books and play hostess to boring foreign merchants. Arianne wanted to do something of _substance_ , but her father denied her everything she asked for. 

She had hoped that things would change after her sixteenth name day. She was an adult now, surely her father would have to begin preparing her to succeed him, surely he would have to give her responsibilities and powers befitting the future ruler of Dorne. Certain things would change, Arianne had approached her father about a subject that had been troubling her for some time. 

It had not gone well. 

Afterward, Arianne went riding with Obara to release her anger, and drinking with Nym to soothe her hurt, and finally she curled up with Tyene to fret about it again. 

“I disappoint him, but he won’t give me an opportunity to change his mind."

Tyene stroked her hair but said nothing. 

“When I told him I wished to be betrothed, he suggested one man older than himself, another missing an eye and half his nose, and a boy of ten rumored to be feeble-minded!”

“You are a woman grown. You can marry whom you choose.”

“I am a princess of Dorne and I must marry a man worthy to father future princes for Dorne. I envy you, Tyene. It’s easier being a bastard. You can marry anyone.”

“Ah, but who will marry me?”

“Any man…”

“Would marry a bastard girl?” Tyene asked. “The lustful spawn of a fallen septa? We all have our burdens to bear, Arianne.” 

“Did the new septon say that?”

“No, but I should write his sermons for him, shouldn’t I?”

They jested and giggled for a bit, then Tyene kissed her cheek and smiled at her in the moonlight. “I have something to make you feel better.”

Arianne felt a curious rush of heat between her legs. “What is it?”

“A raven came bearing news your father has not yet shared with us.”

Arianne started to interrupt, but Tyene laid a finger across her lips. “I know what the message was. Your prayers are being answered, my sweet. The king’s handsome young brother is coming here as part of his progress through the Seven Kingdoms.”

Renly Baratheon was her own age and reputed to be very handsome. He was also King Robert’s youngest brother and the lord of Storm’s End in his own right. Arianne’s heart beat faster. It would be the _perfect_ match. 

Mindful of the prudishness of northerners and the reputation Dornishwomen held among them, Arianne imitated Tyene's demure charm at first. But while Renly was courteous and charming, she could tell he wasn't interested in her as a woman. She grew bolder, smiling and laughing and making such jests as to leave no doubt that she desired him. She wore gowns with scandalously low-cut bodices and touched him as much as she dared in public, but Renly remained uninterested. Finally, the night before he was to depart Sunspear, she left the hall early and waited for him in his bed, naked as her name day. 

"Lord Renly," she purred in greeting when he stumbled into the room laughing with intoxication.

He seemed to sober at the sight of her. "Princess Arianne." He looked around, as if to be sure he had not entered the wrong chamber.

She stretched and let him take in his fill of her naked body. She was desirable to men, that she did not doubt. 

But this man did not desire her. She saw not even a hint of temptation as he held a cloak out to her. "My lady, you are lovely, but I could not insult your father by dishonoring you." He added, "I am not Robert."

King Robert was a notorious lover of women. He had fathered half a dozen bastards and had even been caught deflowering a highborn maiden at his brother Stannis's wedding. Arianne supposed it was a point of honor to Renly that he not be like Robert, but she did not fully understand. Northerners were so strange when it came to matters of the heart and the loins. 

She dressed in silent dignity and bid Renly farewell with all the grace she could muster, but inside Arianne raged. It was not right, it was not fair. He was a handsome young prince and she a beautiful princess, there was no better match. Her father had done something, had said something. Wild with anger, Arianne did not go to her chambers nor seek out her cousins. She strode directly to her father's private quarters. 

The hour was late. Areo Hotah was not outside her father's door with his axe. A pair of common guardsmen stood watch, and they quickly ceded to her demand for entrance. 

"What is it, Arianne?"

Prince Doran Martell was sitting up in bed with a book across his lap. Arianne would rather have found him atop a serving girl. He looked old and tired and not as surprised to see her as she would have expected.

"Why do you not wed me to Renly Baratheon?"

"Renly is quite young yet. I do not believe he seeks a bride."

"We could be betrothed."

"I do not think he is suited for you."

"Oh, yes, of course," she said wildly. "He is young and whole and sound of mind and brother to the king. He is not suited to me at all! I deserve a much older man or a little boy or a halfwit or the most hideous gargoyle you can find!"

"Arianne..."

"What have I done?" She flung herself on the floor beside his bed and grasped her father's hand. "Tell me, Father, how have I angered you?" 

"Arianne, there is much you do not know."

"Then tell me!" Angry tears stung her eyes. "You write to Quentyn twice weekly yet Uncle Oberyn is more father to me than you!"

"It hurts my heart that you feel so. You are my daughter, and I love you. You must trust me."

Arianne drew herself together. No more would she beg for his love like a needy child. " _You_ must trust _me_ , Father."

He had nothing to say to that and she had nothing more to say to him.


End file.
